


Dark Necessities

by NeverSatisfiedGirl (Kalli_Ravenne)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Demon Castiel, Dominance, F/M, Phone Sex, Psychic Violence, Reader-Insert, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalli_Ravenne/pseuds/NeverSatisfiedGirl
Summary: The reader takes on an assistant to help with their budding massage therapy business. Unfortunately, this assistant isn't what he seems. But then, as the story unfolds, neither is the reader.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings for both parts: Sex and violence - funny how they go hand in hand, isn’t it? More specifically: graphic sexual content, stalking, dominance/submission, power play, bondage, some frightening elements, unprotected sex (raincoats before playing out in the rain, kiddies!).**
> 
>  
> 
> **A/N: Hello hello! This is the first half of something very different for me. This is for[@roxy-davenport](https://tmblr.co/mgOcrw4pCS96qhyvzlWbw8g) and her SPN Birthday Celebration! My prompts are: AU Demon!Cas, phone sex, the film _One Missed Call (2008)_ , and the line “ _I can smell your arousal from here_.” Those prompts will play very heavily into part two. I may extend it to three parts, depending on where it leads me. If you’re brave enough, read on. ;)**

_That smug fucking bastard!_

I swear on my life, this is the LAST time I do a friend a favor.

In the bathroom, I fight the urge to scream out my frustrations. How the hell can someone be such a prick? And to a potential boss, no less?

I asked for one simple job to be done. One simple twenty-minute task anyone could have done: check and refill (as needed) my oils and lotions and write down what needs to be reordered.

Easy, right?

Not only did he **not** do it (which left me looking foolish when a client requested a special cream which, much to my dismay, had run completely out), he actually had the fucking nerve to ask in the most arrogant fucking manner, “Think I can get her number?” after the client left.

Now showing up late, I can handle. Getting a few forms mixed up? An easy fix. I can even handle a little attitude when asked to do something, as long as it gets done and done right with no further argument.

But all that, plus consistently hitting on my female clients with that cheeky grin, leaving for an early lunch break while I had two clients in waiting…and now this? And it’s not even noon!

So tell me: _where the fuck do they do that at?!_

I take deep, deliberate breaths to try and ground myself again – in my line of work, you can’t afford to have negative energy when giving massage therapy to clients. I had been working out of my new office for only three months and had an impressive client base. When my increasing workload became too much to handle, I decided to get an assistant.

A fellow therapist told me about a friend of hers looking for work. “Plus,” she added with a wink, “he’s very easy on the eyes.”

She wasn’t lying about that – but once I saw him later on, I realized it was an understatement if I ever heard one. Jet black hair; striking blue (like an ocean of sapphires, seriously) eyes; a lithe, toned body that made me wonder if he was a runner or swimmer; and a gravelly edge to his voice that was rather sexy. It took everything I had not to rip off his tan trench-coat, black blazer, blue tie, crisp and clean white dress shirt and pressed black pants and jump him right in the doorway where he stood. Instead, I brought him in after exchanging pleasantries and went on about my business, managing to ignore how damp my panties were after standing so close to him. He didn’t just exude sexual energy; he was lust personified.

I should have known he would be trouble. From the sensual glare in his eye to the defiant upturn of his lips, he seemed like the difficult type. But the benefit of the doubt is a curious thing, and that’s precisely what I gave him. Besides, having him around promised to be very… _stimulating_. Or so I thought.

Today was his trial/interview. So far, he was succeeding. At pissing me off royally.

Mind you, I rarely curse, I hardly get upset, and it takes a lot to get under my skin. He’s done it in less than three hours. Son of a bitch.

And now I’m in this bathroom, trying every trick in the book to calm down just long enough to go and fire his ass.

I glance at my watch. My next client wasn’t due for three hours. Better make this quick so I can be ready in time.

With a composed and stern face and as much resolve as I could find, I walk back into the empty waiting area. And my jaw drops to the floor.

He was leaning by the window, cool as ever…with his fully erect dick hanging out of his zipper. And he looks at me with those eyes and a wicked smile on his face, probably satisfied to see me in wide-eyed shock.

As much as I tried in vain to ignore it, I couldn’t deny how wet I had been all morning. Even when he gave me so much shit. I had been aching to do all manner of dark, delicious, devious things to him. And even more so now.

This pissed me off all over again.

After shaking off my five seconds of stunned silence, I don’t bother to control the angry growl of my voice. “What the hell is wrong with you? This is a professional environment and you have done nothing but give me grief. I took you on as a favor which I now regret even considering, and stop fucking staring at me like that!”

The corner of his mouth turns up in that same cocky smirk as a soft chuckle escapes from him. “Such ugly language from such a pretty mouth,” he chides teasingly as he continues to leer at me. “I imagine you can do other, more productive things with it,” he adds, glancing from his hardened cock to my lips as he says this.

That simple look is my undoing. He obviously doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.

But he’s about to find out.

I grab him by the collar and pull his six-foot-two frame away from the wall. He pulls me into him and kisses me hard and deep. His tongue fills my mouth and I can’t breathe. And I don’t care.

Through the thin fabric of my scrubs, I can feel him pressing every stiff inch of him against me.

I want him, I won’t deny it. But he still has hell to pay.

I shove him back and slap him across the face. Before he reacts, I pull hard at his pristine white shirt. Buttons fly everywhere, clattering on the wooden floor between us. As I take off his blazer and his shirt, he dives into my neck, lips and tongue moving furiously against my skin. His kisses are paralyzing, addictive, destructive. His teeth come down on my shoulder and I cry out.

This cocky little fuck. He really thinks he can take charge over me?

Not. Happening.

I seize him by the wrists and drag him to one of the armless chairs in the waiting area. With a hard shove he drops into the seat without protest. My eyes are fixed as his tongue glides over his lips, ravenous and wild. Heavy breaths lift his sculpted chest. His eyes are dark with desire, storm clouds of infinite passion.

Fire courses through my veins as I kneel to bind his hands behind him, making full use of his ruined shirt to hold him fast. Suddenly, it’s not enough to fuck him until he breaks. I don’t just want to tear him apart.

I want to put him in his place.

I circle his helpless form (with surprising self-restraint). His breathing is still heavy, his eyes still lustful and hungry. There are unusual, though beautiful, symbols tattooed on his ribs. His entire upper body is breathtaking…and decidedly lickable.

Like I’m gonna tell him that. He already has that kind of swagger like he knows damn well he’s got the most gorgeous cock in existence. Which – God forgive me – he _does_. 

“So, you gonna keep staring at it, or you gonna do something with it?” His husky voice slices into my thoughts, triggering an unexpected response.

I slap him across the face again. He laughs aloud this time. I straddle his lap and seize him by the neck. We are nose to nose, lips dangerously close to grazing one another. I know if he claims them, it’s over.

My voice is different: low, carnal, full of malice, power, and lust. “Not. Another. Fucking. Word. You’ve said enough today. Now you listen to me. And listen well ‘cause I will not repeat myself.”

As I speak his energy consumes me, fiery and devastating. His passion fuels and amplifies my own.

But the lesson must be taught.

“I am well aware of your professional talents; our mutual friend told me how good you are. What I don’t appreciate is your total lack of respect for authority. You think you can get away with it anywhere because you’re so fucking charming. But around here, I don’t take the shit lying down. And if I keep you” – I pause to let one free hand slip between my legs to grip his dick – “you will respect me as a worker respects a boss. Or I will make you my bitch. Choose very carefully.”

His groan rumbles in his chest. His hips rise to grind against mine, and my breath catches in my throat.

“That’s a bold statement,” he replies ever so defiantly. “I’d love to see you enforce it.” His body undulates beneath me, sending shock-waves throughout. It’s getting harder to breathe…

So I fight back.

I press into him forcefully, slowly rocking back and forth, feeling his shaft as I rub my pussy against him. His head rolls back in ecstasy, exposing his Adam’s apple – I know he can feel the heat and wetness through these scrubs. I want him to feel it.

And while I’m at it…

His earlobes are strangely tantalizing. They’re also vulnerable. I wonder what happens if I have a little nibble on one.

Just as I thought…he shivers at the sensation. I can feel him pulsing in my hand as the friction builds between us.

The salt of his skin as I travel down his neck thrills my tongue. My mouth comes to the tightness of his shoulder, nipping a little with my teeth just once before I bite down hard, making him jump and buck in his chair.

He growls a string of obscenities that I can barely make out. He’s so close. I throb from all this torture.

Releasing my mouth from his shoulder, I ride him faster, harder, more, closer, and then…

I stop. I glance at my watch.

It takes all of my self-control to stand up from his lap and walk (in a way that only appeared effortless) to my office and retrieve my purse from the door. As I head towards the exit, I catch the bewilderment in his face.

With the same smirk he gave me earlier, I say sweetly, “It’s lunch time. I’ll be back in an hour.”

And I stroll out of the office, cool as you please, leaving him bound to a chair with throbbing cock and wild frustration like he’s never known. Not to mention, a possible case of blue-balls.

Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?

* * *

_**“Funny thing is, she still thinks I’m some mortal. Won’t she be surprised?”**_ \- Demon!Cas


End file.
